


La gatta Cennerentola

by orphan_account



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Dancing, Elvis isn't quite a thing yet, F/M, Internalised Misogyny, No Smut, Period Typical Attitudes, Plotless Nonsense, Poverty, Pre-Canon, Underage Relationship(s), Violetta just wants new threads, but i wouldn't call this 'fluff' as such, coffee dates, good bread is the key to a relationship, gratuitous backstory speculation, i recognise the content is problematic but since i love villains i've elected to ignore that, implied petty crime, implied snogging though, language barriers, mocking rich people but also wanting to be rich people, or something, she's 15 and he's 18, tame YA levels of teenagers being horny, they're not called ludo and violetta yet tho so you'll have to live with what i picked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 'Backstreets of Naples', 1955.After running into each other a time or two, in as peaceful a manner as street rats ever can, they agreed to meet for coffee.From there on, they shared quite a lot together.
Relationships: Ludo Talenti/Violetta Talenti
Comments: 36
Kudos: 14





	1. The Glass Slipper

**Author's Note:**

> 15th nov 2020: i'm deleting my account but leaving this and a few others up as orphaned versions.
> 
> Some notes and disclaimers at the end. Only TW for the canon-implied age differences I suppose, but this is just a good christian coffee date. Kinda. (Maybe not.)

It was only half past five and the place was full of chatter, but troubled thoughts crawled inside her chest. She knew she'd got a few looks.

All right, it _was_ a worn cardigan, but the warm light washed it out even further, and that was just awful. It used to be black and velvety, darker and shinier than her hair, but now it looked grey and mousy in the worst way possible. She pulled on the sleeves again to at least pretend it fit, but it was hopeless. The rag looked exactly as it was - several years too old.

Giuliana stared at her shoes to hide her worry from the other customers in the little corner focacceria. It didn't help her mood at all because the shoes were such embarrassing wrecks; the right one was missing the little buckle completely and she'd had to use a hair pin to keep it on. It was a low no one else in the establishment surely had to resort to. And it wasn't even a particularly fine place.

Sitting alone was starting to feel very silly. Her cup of tea had half of it still left, but long gone cold. She'd already eaten the cheapest corner cut of a pan she'd dared to spend on, and it was a while since. The small plate looked lonely like that, but it was all she had to spare - she'd just enough for one bus fare more. 

She didn't want to go asking for another laundry job from Signora di Marzio. It was beyond humiliating, she got next to nothing for her toiling, and the ugly old woman hated her more than her aunt ever had. (To be fair, she hated everyone in the neighbourhood, but that was beyond the point. She hated Giulia especially much.)

She swept her ponytail back and leaned her jaw on her hand with a soft sigh. If she sat like that for much longer, holding seats from customers that looked more proper than her, she'd be told off. Or worse, someone else might sit down with her. 

Well, how bad it was would depend on _who_. Older ladies liked her manners, boys liked her eyes. Men either got angry - if they were proper - or crass - if they weren't. 

Quarter to five, he'd said. That he'd love to take a girl as sweet as her out on purpose this time, and hear all about her. It was nice. She'd laughed at him.

'Oh, are you not satisfied with what you've heard?' she'd asked.

'Have I heard even half of it? There must be more to you than that sweet smile,' he'd said and grinned. Then he'd kissed her, short and sweet.

She even wore the earrings he'd given to her as a gift last week. Or rather, the pair she'd taken from his bag, but he'd smiled when she did that and only demanded back the pearl necklace, so it was as good as.

So then, why hadn't he turned up on time? Giulia drew in a long, quiet breath, and turned her eyes back to the door.

A drawling local accent asked for her attention carefully, 'Well, miss. Good evening.' 

She met the eyes of the owner slowly. If it hadn't been so foul, she'd have cursed. 'Good evening.'

'Are we doing quite all right?' 

'Yes, certainly,' she said. 'How-'

'I don't think you're supposed to be here.' He looked at her shoes and the faded cardigan. 'On your own.'

He must've thought she was the daughter of some tramp, come inside to hide from the slowly chilling Neapolitan coastal air. 

'Thank you, but I'm perfectly all right,' she said. 'How do you do.' The man gave her a puzzled look at that - for all she hated how out of place she looked, she sounded even more so.

 _Napule_. Napoli. 

Beniccio's southern note didn't sound half as strange in the city as hers, even if he claimed he was no local either.

'Right, well, miss-'

'I'm not alone, thank you. I'm waiting. For a friend,' she said politely. Was he? He was now.

'Right.'

'Have you seen a boy with a red bicycle?'

'A boy?' The man frowned. She nodded. 'Lots of them. How old is he?'

'My age, about.' She was fairly sure he was a couple of years older, but close enough. 'Dark hair. He's a head taller than me.'

'Recently?'

'Well, yes, I'm waiting for him now.'

The man gave her a pitying look, but in the tired sort of way that made it clear he wasn't surprised at all. 'Listen, my little one. Boys come and go. I see you've been waiting for quite a while, and like I said, you look like you should be heading home...'

She bit her jaws together, but fought not to look upset. That wouldn't do - the last thing she needed was to get thrown out for seeming difficult.

'Can't I stay and wait for him for a while more?' she asked and gave him a hopeful smile. 'Please. I'm not bothering anyone, I can… Get another cup of coffee, maybe.' Not like she had the money to spare, but once Beniccio arrived, he would have some change.

The owner squared his jaw. 'Now, little miss-'

'Just for a little while.' He looked doubtful, but she kept her face serious. 'If he isn't here in half an hour, I will leave.'

'All right. Just know that I will be closing the place by seven. By then, you've got to be on your way. Understood?'

She nodded firmly. 'Yes, of course. Thank you. Thank you very much.' 

Relief was a warm summer wave. She wouldn't have to sit and wait on the side of the pavement after all. 

'So, who's this boy of yours?' the owner asked. 'Is he from around here?'

'Yes,' she lied, supposing that it sounded better. 'His name is Beniccio. Um… Benedetto?' She didn't know.

'And he invited you here?'

'Yes. He said that he's working, so I suppose he got held up a bit late.'

'Where does he work?' 

'In the city,' she said, because she didn't know the answer to that either. The man huffed to himself, but went back to the counter that stood between the room and the kitchen.

'I would love a fresh cup of coffee while I wait, please. Beniccio will be here any minute, he would like to have one ready for him, I'm sure.' 

The owner hummed drily. 'And what will you two be having?'

'Oh, I can just have a refill of this… thank you.' She got up and brought her half-empty mug of tea with her. She had no idea how Beniccio liked his coffee. It might have been a strong _caffè crema_ or maybe macchiato the last time. She thought on it for a minute, and held tightly onto her handbag. 

'And for this Beniccio?'

'Just one _all'americana_ for him.'

The owner tried and failed to hold back a laugh. 'Right?'

'Yes.'

'Well, now I have to believe you.' He took her cup and eyed her in a bit more forgiving way. 'A woman scorned… You're expecting him to pay for it too?'

Giulia pursed her lips. 'I think he deserves it for making me wait so long.'

'Sure does, little girl. And if he doesn't arrive?'

She looked down and smiled, then up again, serious now. She was a bit worried, and it wasn't a nice thought to dwell on. 'Then I will, of course. But would you, please, let me wait for a bit longer?'

The owner nodded and gave her the cup back, steaming and freshly brewed again. Giulia opened her handbag, but he interrupted her. 

'That's on the house. Can't serve cold drinks if I call them hot, can I.' He waved a hand. 'Now, move along. I'll bring your boy's hot water to the table when he comes around.'

She smiled and thanked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Caffè crema' is what espresso used to be called because of the kinda creamy finish it gets from how it's brewed.  
> 'All'americana' or americano is just. Espresso, again, but dunked in a big cup of hot water.
> 
> Italy has some rather stark dialect differences, and Naples in particular is known for more or less having a language of its own, at least when compared to the northern regions.


	2. Breadcrumbs

Beniccio stormed in like a gust of summer wind, even though it had started to rain outside. Six o'clock, on the dot, and his soft voice filled the place.

'Giulietta, my girl!' He strode to her, jacket unzipped over a clean, green polo, hair combed neatly and face clean-shaven, and he'd even shone his shoes recently. For her? 

'Hello.' She frowned. 'You took your time.'

'I'm so sorry for letting you wait!'

'Where were you?' she demanded, but got up to return his hug anyway.

'I promise you, it was for a good reason. I got a new job! A good one too.' He grinned and gave her chin a quick, tickling caress before sitting down and crossing an ankle over the knee. 'You'd think I-'

The owner cut in and set a hot cup of nothing in front of him. 'And here's for you.' Beniccio looked up like he'd never seen a coffee before - or a man for that matter. 'Miss here ordered it already. That would be thirty lira.'

'Oh. Okay.' He gave Giulia a narrow look. 'Thanks a lot.'

She smiled and nodded graciously. 'All'americana. For you.'

'Yes, I noticed.'

'What was it?'

Beniccio pulled a face at the 'coffee' that looked more like water than it had to, but drank a valiant mouthful. She smirked, but hid it by ducking her head and fixing her sleeves again. 

'What's what?' he asked.

'Your good job.'

His smile turned a bit sweeter again. 'I'm a driver at a hotel near the harbour. Pays well if you're reliable like me.'

'You speak French?'

He grinned and shook his head. 

'English?'

'Not a word, and that's the fun in it.' He paused to reconsider. _'Okay_ , I lied. I can say _thank you_ and _good morning._ And _yes_ and no.'

'You've got a horrible accent,' Giulia said. The grin warmed her cheeks but she couldn't keep it away either. 

'Hey! I'm sorry, are you an expert then?'

'More than you, clearly,' she said. (It wasn't entirely true, his accent was actually rather good, but it was fun to tease. At least she knew enough to judge on that.) 'Did you ever even go to school?'

'And study English?' He frowned and scoffed, took a sip of his coffee, remembered that it was terrible, and set the cup down again. 'Giulia, my dear, the schools I've sat in hardly taught Italian. Shit schools, I have to admit, but-'

'Shush!' She shook her head. 'Behave yourself, the owner wanted to send me out once already.'

He took her hands in his across the table. 'Do I have to whisper?' he asked softly. Her frown only made him smile wider.

His hands were red, smooth, and little bits of skin had peeled back like lacy cobwebs on his palms.

'Is this from driving a car?' she asked, doubtful of such a thing.

Beniccio shook his head and gave her cheek a soft pat. 'The tourists all love to sleep in the morning. I had to come up with something else for the early hours.'

He was doing labour work. 

'Why?' She expected him to smile and tell her she was worth it, or some other sweet nonsense. She'd thought he was better, a boy of some class, but perhaps he was just a regular idiot.

'Because the earlier you go, the better it pays,' he said instead, his face and tone rather serious. 'And if you're willing to listen to those who pay those who pay you, it's an even better gamble. Everyone is out for something in a big city like this, and _someone_ has the money.'

She wasn't sure she followed, but nodded anyway. 

'You look confused, _lule_.'

'Surprised.'

'Ah, sorry. That's a great difference.' He nodded. 'My bad. I assure you, it's all to make sure I've got a little more in store than I need.'

'So you'll pay for my tea too?'

He laughed then, and his face was all one blinding grin. 'Sure. It's on me. Do you want something else? I'm starving.'

She thought, then, she really liked him. He bought them both a generous slice of bread with tomato and basil on top, asking about her day. He smiled at her as she talked carefully about what she could - which wasn't much, but she'd been thinking about a lot instead, about the town and her landlady, the girls next door, the summer dresses she had seen in the window of a boutique.

He watched her like a satisfied cat - a lanky one, but happy all the same. He asked about the dresses, and while she told of a lovely lilac one, he pointed discreetly at his own chin to alert her of a few stray crumbs. It was nice of him - otherwise she'd have embarrassed herself even further than her attire already did.

'Sorry,' she said. 

'I don't mind,' he said. 'I'm just glad you like it, that this turned out to be a nice spot.'

'It's lovely,' she agreed. About the taste of the focaccia more than the place itself, but if she hadn't known of anything better, it might have been a different story. Nonetheless, all her earlier worries were gone, for a time, and she didn't know how to thank him for it.

'Let's go dancing. I know a place.'

'You can _dance_?' Giuliana fought back a laugh. The surprise of imagining Beniccio dancing beat the surprise of the suggestion itself. 'I don't believe you.'

'It doesn't take that much.' He smiled and shrugged. 'I can show you how it goes.'

'No, I don't think you could teach me much about that,' she said and shook her head. If what he told of his school years was true, that is. 

'Are you saying you don't want to? That can't be right.'

It wasn't. 'And where is the place?'

'I can take you on the bike. It really isn't far,' he assured. 'Up towards Vesuvio, ten minutes or so, at the edge of the city. I know there's going to be dancing tonight.'

Well, it didn't sound bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't done preparatory language classes for my fic, _lule_ is Albanian for 'a flower'. Lulia is a name that sounds like a happy little mix of that and Giulia. That's why he keeps calling her that sometimes.


	3. The Tinderbox

There was a short moment between day and night that emptied the streets for a perfect silence. Families left, and career men and cars, and the alleys were nearly deserted by the time they stepped outside. They bid the owner of the corner shop good night as he locked the doors and thanked him for his patience, and he told Beniccio to buy a better watch. They both laughed, and he vowed to do so. Giuliana held his elbow, and didn't feel bad at all. 

No city ever slept, but all that she'd seen took a short break just before the sunset made clouds and walls blush. The rain had stopped as well. She and Beniccio were among the first to start the next few ticking hours of life.

'Cold?' she asked, laughing, her own cheeks warm with excitement. Beniccio buttoned his overshirt up all the way as soon as he'd unlocked his bicycle.

'Yeah!' He gave her a glare. 'What, darling, you aren't? In a blouse like that, no less.'

'It's a cardigan,' she corrected him.

'Well, whatever it is, it looks so thin it makes _me_ shiver.'

She crossed her arms and frowned.

'What?' he asked.

'Don’t talk to me like that.'

'Tell the truth, you mean?'

'No, you're mocking me. I don't like that.' She'd done her best to look smart - and if he was cleaning courtyards or piling bricks all morning, or whatever it was that he did, he had no room to judge her. 'Rude, I'd say.'

Beniccio shrugged. 'You did start it.' He let her gape at the childishness of the statement for a beat, but waved at the bike soon. 'Come on. You can mock me more while we ride there, but that means you need to hang on tight.'

'And I will,' she grumbled, but hitched her skirt up from mid-shin to her knees and sat behind him.

The further they got, the more life and sound returned to the streets. First a stray dog with eyes as big as saucers; it was staring at them from a yard and barked at the bike. Giulia startled and squeezed Beniccio's waist. It made him laugh loudly as the bicycle swerved.

After the dog, a few cars and even a small motorcycle stormed past, though it disappeared as quickly as it had rounded the corner.

The next narrow alley sloped gently down and let Beniccio rest his legs a bit. They rolled down past a jarred door and another one that shut quickly, some windows had lights on, and an old man sat smoking a pipe on a doorstep. Someone talked loudly enough on the telephone that her voice flooded the entire street from a balcony.

'Who's going to be there?' Giulia asked.

'Dancing?' he asked, and she nodded against his back. 'Oh, I don't know. Some friends from work. Some of their friends and girlfriends. I know a kid whose father pays for him to be in some fine school all year, and he's desperate not to stay there. A bastard. Evaristo something.'

'Maybe the school isn't nice?'

He was quiet for a moment. 'I'd bet it's nicer than most other things, anyway.'

'Nicer than haggling for coffee,' she agreed.

'I paid for that!'

They came to a halt by the door of a hard-to-define building shoved between a block of flats and a bookshop. It could've just as well been an old business or a small school, now in dire need of repair and a new purpose in life. The door was open and by the sounds of laughter drifting out, and it was all but dead despite its worn looks. 

Giulia jumped off the bike and Beniccio left it by the pavement.

'Are you-'

'No need for locks. Zef's got bolt-cutters anyway.'

She pursed her lips. 'Who's Zef?' What an odd name.

Beniccio took her by the arm and showed her inside. 'A friend.' He didn't sound like he meant it at all.

Someone had a tambourine, there was a silly old gramophone too, the rest was all just voice and noise that filled the old village parlour. Or whatever it had been.

The crowd was small, but they were crowded in greetings all the same, laughs and hands, and she got twirled around by someone before even seeing his face. Either everyone knew Beniccio well, or he just made friends quicker than most. She was a bit jealous for that. Life would've been better if people had liked her more easily - she knew how it could've been.

'Besnik! Hey!'

'Zef!' Beniccio let go of her to return the greeting.

He was speaking suddenly in a language she didn't know, and made a short, sandy-haired boy laugh like a dog. Giulia stared at them as the words rushed past her. It wasn't Neapolitan, either, and that was already impossible enough.

She caught a few real words from the jumble, 'How's Mario?' whoever that was. The rest of what Zef said was all Greek to her, but Beniccio said something harsh that got another laugh out of him.

'There are ladies present, _please_ , Besa.' The sandy-brown boy pointed at Giuliana. He wiped his nose on his checkered shirt-sleeve. 'Who's your girl?'

Beniccio turned to her with such an adoring smile that she'd have thought _she_ were the one who had just cycled through town - her heart fluttered and she felt warm again. 'Giuliana, my lovely new friend.' He rubbed her arm and hugged her closer. 'Found her in the rain, back a week or two ago.'

'Zef.' The blond offered a hand and she took it. 'Or, like, Giuseppe. Pick one.'

'Nice to meet you, Giuseppe,' she said. He looked harmless. 'Beniccio thought you'd steal his bicycle.'

'I did not say that,' he said quickly, but Giuseppe barked out another loud laugh.

'Great! You're making this whole place to sound like a smugglers' lair.'

'Hopefully not. You wouldn't catch me dead inside if it was.' Beniccio narrowed his eyes. 'Which brings to mind, Zef, have you got a cigarette?'

He patted his pockets. 'Yeah. What for? You want it?'

Beniccio got out a lighter and flicked the lid open. 'No. But you'll smoke it now, outside. I'll light it for you.' He nodded to the door. 'Your line is "yes", man. Come on.'

Giuseppe huffed out an unimpressed sound. He put a cigarette between his lips anyway and smirked around it.

'Hey? What's this?' Giulia grabbed Beniccio's sleeve.

'I'll be right back,' he promised. 'Have a bit of fun in the meantime, love, talk to the girls. It won't take a minute.' 

'What's going on?'

'Nothing you need to worry about.' Beniccio petted her hair in a way that felt less genuine now. Maybe it was just her nerves. 'It's work shifts. He'll smoke and we'll be back.'

'The morning shifts?'

He nodded after a pause. 'Yes. Exactly that.'

With that he was gone, and Giulia was alone once more. She stood waiting without knowing what to expect.

One of the girls buzzing a few steps away had a bright blue summer dress that looked so new it could've been right off the hanger. In a place like that? Ridiculous. Her bright red nail polish and beautiful little white shoes had no place in a spot that drab. 

She could only stare at her in disgust. Where did the girl think she was? One of her friends, a tall bleach-blonde with her hair perfectly curled, was fawning over it too. New, maybe, but cheap too - that's how it looked.

'Maria, Maria,' someone else chirped. 'Thank you so much for yesterday!'

The girl in blue hugged her friend back and smiled sweetly as a pot honey with sugar and merengue on top. 

'Who are we talking about?' A boy pushed himself into their conversation, quickly derailing it by openly flirting with the lovely Maria.

Giulia doubted she was really half as happy about helping her flock as she pretended to be. She wouldn't be gloating with the dress and all if she was around from friendly love alone.

There were hands on her shoulders, and Beniccio above when Giulia looked up. Giuseppe strutted to where some of the other lads were already bickering - about a car, about Maria, about whatever. 

'Hello, Lulia.'

'Your work is clear now?' she asked.

'Yes.' Beniccio pulled her arm gently and pointed to whoever it was that Maria was laughing and turning with. 'Now, how about that dance?' He grinned and shrugged off the jacket he'd unbuttoned again. 

'Wait!' 

'What is it?' He took her hands.

Giulia planted her feet. Her arms and neck crawled with a nervous flush. 'I can't dance with you.'

 _'What?'_ He laughed.

'I'm sorry,' she said, shuffling her feet. She'd ruined it all.

'Sure you can. You don't mean that!'

Giulia mulled over her words for a moment, but his face lost some of its light the longer it took. Even as she steeled herself against the truth, the heat spread to her face. 'My shoes can't take it.' 

They both looked at the shape of them, barely held together by the straps. They really wouldn't last anything more than careful walking.

'Okay.' Beniccio let out a long breath. 'All right.' He placed both hands gently on her shoulders and smiled. She didn't know what to think, but at least it wasn't a pitying smile. She hated the way her nerves made her eyes burn, it always happened. 

'Let's do this.' He bent his knees and dropped to reach her feet.

'What are you doing?' she hissed, pushing his arms. Thank heavens her skirt was long enough to be decent.

'Shh!'

'No, Beniccio! _What are you doing?'_

His hands were at her ankles and the only reply he gave was a quick smirk. He pulled out the hair pin and stuck it to the edge of his shirt pocket. 

She rolled her eyes. 'You could have just asked me if I want to-'

'Hands on my shoulders, darling,' he told her. Disappointment twisted her lips, but she leaned on him and let him lift her foot out of the broken shoe. Then the other - his hands were gentle enough to pretend that they were helpful. The cement chilled her toes through the socks.

'Now what?' she asked and looked down at him as sternly as she knew. 'Do you want me to dance barefoot?'

He grinned, shoulders lifting a bit under her hands. 'If it makes you feel better, I can take my shoes off too?'

What a question! 'I would prefer that to getting my toes stepped on.'

His look was a bit offended, mocking at once, but he undid his laces and stepped out of the shoes swiftly enough, shoulders above her reach again. 

'Now, then?' He offered his hand.

She took it calmly and pulled him to the makeshift dance floor. The jazzy record was anything but waltz, but he didn't quite seem like the swinging city type either. 

'If you surprise me with some country boy dances instead of anything proper, I'm going to be cross.'

'That's _exactly_ what I plan on doing.' His laugh was the kind you just had to join. Someone else, already dancing behind her, laughed as well.

It was no _monferrina_ or _tarantella_ , thankfully. Nothing American either, even when someone put the record on again. It wasn't skilled or beautiful, but it left her dizzy and made her feet burn on the cold cement. 

There was no fighting the gallop he picked up so she let him whisk her along. She didn't want to leave the twirls either, so she pulled him moving again after each one. Damn the forgotten shoes and damn the worn hem of the skirt - she had fun. The music didn't matter, some who didn't dance were clapping a different rhythm anyway. Some who danced did that too, and maybe Beniccio started it, by her ear and over her head, behind her as he twirled her around.

He tossed her up in his arms a time or two and made her scream as he spun. She laughed, and danced with another boy as well (a less flighty and flashy one, maybe that Evaristo) when the cheap flock of girls ran to Beniccio to get the same treatment. 

He kept his eyes on her the entire time, even with Maria, grinning from ear to ear. She ran to grab him by the hand when it was free again. He held her close, face flushed, for a few quick touches she wouldn't have allowed otherwise.

When was the last she'd laughed like that? Or had her hair so swept out of place, without minding it a bit?

She didn't know, but she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled until she reached a kiss.

'Oh, watch it!' He laughed and stole a kiss in return. 'I'll be in love with you in a minute if you keep that up.'

She didn't mind the thought at all, but she couldn't come up with a reply to something so soft and sudden. She wrapped her arms tightly around him instead.

They changed the record at last, to something sweeter sung in English. Beniccio's lips were on her forehead, then in her hair, muttering something. She leaned against his chest.

As people grew tired, and Maria and her friends were packing their things away, the second silence of the night started lurking around the dance hall.

She and Beniccio gathered their few belongings as well, and she felt warm and worn and dizzy in the best of ways.

Beniccio cursed loudly when they got outside. 'He really took it! By God, he took the bike!'

'Oh no,' Giulia agreed - her feet ached from just thinking about walking herself home - but she couldn't hold back a laugh either. 'And he was so offended, too.'

'Yeah.' Beniccio crossed his arms, but didn't join her smile. 'It's really getting dark now.'

'I'd say it already is.'

'Where do you live?' he asked, quirking a worried brow. 'Is it far?'

She paused to consider. She didn't really want him to come knocking on the Di Marzios' door unannounced. 'Where do you live?' she asked back, a bit quieter.

'A few blocks from here.' Something in his look changed, and he looked genuinely surprised behind the smile. 'Why? Are you coming over for the night?'

'Well, no, I-'

'No, shh, don't worry,' he rushed to say, 'Of course you can.' He bent his knees a bit again lifting his arms. 'Hop on! There's no fare for the ride. I won't let my girl _walk_ with such shredded shoes.'

Her heart beat against her ribs in alarm, but her cheeks were still red from dance and sore from smiling. 'Is it far from here?'

'No, no, quite close. It won't take us long.’

'You'll carry me?' she asked, doubtful. 'I'm not a child, you know.

'I will. You're light as a feather, _lule_ , a flower. Hands on my shoulders.'

Giulia rolled her eyes, but it was sweet. She took the shoes in her hand and hopped on his back. He caught her easily despite her clumsy climbing, wrapped his arms snugly under her knees, and gave her a smile she could only half see.

'That's good, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Ready to go?'

'Yes. I don't think you're being very proper, though,' she whispered in his ear. His cheeks might have flushed a little.

'Listen-' He turned his head to give her half a glare. 'Now, sweetheart, you're a _filthy_ little thing. I've said _nothing_ -'

'No.' She wrapped her legs tighter around his hips when he started their trek. 'I'm not that stupid.' She knew that spending a night with someone and spending a night _with someone_ were two very different things. He had no right to scold her for seeing the offer for what it was.

'No? _Shën Mëri.'_ His chuckle shook against her chest and he leaned his warm cheek on her arm. 'Well, you must be a little silly anyway.'

'Says the mule.' She pulled at his ear. 

'Yeah.' He skipped a few steps in a canter and she squealed, grabbing onto his collar for dear life. 'No! Don't choke me, Giulia dear!'

'Stop running!'

'Certainly, now!' 

His hands were gentle, but his work-worn fingers came alive behind her knees at that - a brush of his thumb under her thigh. There were no more questions after that.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say I love my cityscapes and extra OCs. I hope you liked them too. Zef youre a scoundrel, Maria I hope you had a nice birthday even though this one kid kept glaring daggers at you!!
> 
> Before you fools get anything dumb in your heads the chapter title is from a HC Andersen story, not a reference to Tinder.
> 
> English-speaking people say 'it's all Greek' when they mean foreign and unintelligible and I don't think it's the same in Italian (and in Finnish we say 'it's Hebrew'), but to be fair it kinda fits cos many italo-albanese people are eastern/orthodox/'greek catholic' instead of traditionally roman catholic.  
> Violetta, babe, your sheltered snobby post-war attitude is showing.


	4. Tsarevich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _If you ask me how randy they got, I'm going to ask you, 'why do you want me to answer that?' They're Catholic teenagers, man, they probably snogged and then prayed to Jesus._   
> 

The rain from the afternoon was back after midnight, and grew heavier too. It made the gutters rattle and the whole house sigh, but a ground floor flat was luckily rather safe from it all. Beniccio had popped out of the cramped bedroom for a glass of water, or something, and he disappeared into the dark doorway quietly. Giulia smiled to herself and turned to her side, despite the creaking bed's protests. 

He was being so very careful, though she wasn't even asleep yet. Just snug under the covers. When he got back, she caught a raised eyebrow and his tilted chin in the thin brush of gold from a streetlight. 

Beniccio sat down on the edge of the bed, and laid his hand gently on her knee. 'You look tired, Lulia,' he whispered.

'So do you.' 

'Well, yes. I've had a long day.'

She leaned on her elbow. 'Me too. You should come back here and sleep.'

'That does sound nice,' he agreed and gave her thigh a little pat. 'Budge up, then.'

His weight made the mattress creak again, but it really wasn't worse than the bed she had at the Di Marzio house. It was quite comfortable, actually, with two; Beniccio's breathing was steady, his chest warm through the vest, and his shoulder a nice additional pillow despite the bone pushing into her cheek. She didn't mind listening to the rain like that, with him brushing his fingers gently through her hair.

'Back at the dances… What were you talking with Zef?' What about, in which language. Either way.

'He'll get to do an early job tomorrow. I won't go.'

'Why?' Giulia asked. 

Beniccio blinked slowly, looked at her for a minute, and reached his free arm out onto the nightstand chair with a thud. He found the old watch he'd just worn all day, and brought it up to the thin stripe of light that cut through the room. 

All right, she hadn't thought the question that much before asking.

'Because, sweetheart… it's going on one in the morning, now,' he mumbled in her hair and held the watch so they'd both see. The long hand had just hit half past midnight. 'And I haven't slept since it last was three.'

'Yes, understood.' She squirmed when he hid a big yawn. 'You're mocking me again.'

'Sorry, it's just the way I talk,' he whispered and put the watch away again. The rain filled the silence for them, and had it not been for her turning thoughts, she would've already been asleep.

It had been a long day indeed.

'Did you run?' Beniccio asked so quietly she almost missed it. She opened her eyes to watch the dark plaster wall, and the question lingered somewhere unseen. It was obvious, wasn't it?

'Did you?' she asked.

'No,' he whispered. It was nearly amused. 'Nothing to run from. How about you?'

Giulia swallowed once and crossed her fingers around the cross she wore. She pressed her hands against his side to still them. 'Everything.' 

Everything had been taken from her after _Signore Tudini's sad accident, oh no_ , and those who had it now should've been there for her. They'd just driven her away instead, Aunt and Dottore Brutto and all. They had rather made fun of her than helped. 'And nothing as well.' As far as she knew he lovely old house was empty, or sold to someone new.

Beniccio fell quiet and very still. It was a bit unusual for him. He held her close anyway, still warm. Giulia leaned up to press a careful kiss on his cheek, an apology and a thank you. 

'Don't worry about it.'

'No,' he said and rubbed her back. One sympathetic chuckle. 'You're better off here, now, aren't you? Yeah?'

'Yes.' she nodded on his shoulder. 

'Good-mannered and good-looking. And good at dancing, too. Better than most of the girls out there.'

He was flattering her, but it worked wonders for her wound-up spine and dark thoughts. 'How so?'

'You talk like you're from… Rome or somewhere! A proper princess.'

'Milan,' she said with a giggle, 'or close by there.'

He lifted his head from the pillow, and blurted out rather loudly, 'Milan?'

'Mhm.'

'That's f- that's _very_ far away.'

'Yes.' She knew.

'Okay.' Beniccio looked at her for a minute with eyes wide with surprise, then narrow again like a confused cat. 'Really, _Milan_?'

Giulia nodded a third time and averted her eyes, but at least he sounded impressed rather than upset in his shock. 'I took the train that went the furthest.'

'Clearly. Opposite direction and you'd be in… Germany or something.'

Austria, more likely, with the Alps in the way, or France. 'I think I would've managed there as well,' she whispered while he settled back down again. Perhaps it would've been harder to get settled, but it couldn't have been that bad.

'Oh? Well then, princess,' Beniccio whispered, 'How many languages do you speak? Two?' 

She shook her head. 

'Three? No, four? Heavens, that's a bunch.' His impressed tone made her blush and bite back another little laugh. It didn't help the flush that he held her hand up and lifted two of her fingers out against his. 'Italian, English. What more? German?' He lifted up another finger. She opened the rest. 

'Just a few words, greetings and such. I'm much better at French. And I know just a little bit of Dutch from when my father had an associate from there.'

'My, an _associate_? And all that teaching, you really did run away from some palace.' He let her weave their fingers together. 'Not from around these streets whatsoever.'

'Neither are you.'

'No.'

'What are you then?' she asked, fighting a giggle. 'If I'm a princess?' It was a very dramatic choice of a pet name after just flowers and whatnot, but she liked it.

He weighed his words for a while. She believed he was trying to be honest for once. 

'Um. I'm the grandson of a chieftain.' There was a bit of pride in how he said it, but it waned. 'My mother lived- uh… there was a lot of staff there, in the big house in the city. Not that it was a proper city.'

'Which city?' she asked.

'A foreign one.'

'What was it you said…?' He hadn't. 'Earlier.'

'Tirana, yes.' He nodded to himself. 'I remember the big doors. And the big woods around the house, there was, um, there were animals there. And the soldiers, they were everywhere, and builders.'

She could hardly remember any soldiers. Some former captains, yes, who'd still been active captains when she was born, but she had never felt the way when Beniccio said the word. 

'What was your mother like?' Was she dead or still around? Giulia couldn't remember much about her own, it had been so long.

'Stupid, I guess.'

Giulia blinked. 'Oh?'

'My father married her and they both thought they would get rich.' His eyes squinted a bit. 'Well, that didn't happen, they only got me, and she was a chieftain's daughter no more.'

Well, he did ask first, but clearly it was the end of that story. One that Giulia couldn't quite follow, but she respected the ending anyway. A _chieftain_ wasn't the kind of word you heard all that often, not even with the wealthy old men her father had known. 

She brought a tired hand gently up to his jaw, too tired for another careful apology kiss. 'And then? You said you lived with your Nonna.'

'Did I?' 

'The other day.'

He laughed under his breath and let her map his face with her fingers. 'Maybe I did. Nonna's from my father's side of the family, though. In a way.'

'Sicily?'

'Can you hear it so clearly?' Giulia nodded. 'Well, your ears are right. She lives near Palermo, in a village.'

'You've travelled more than I have,' she said. 'This is the first I'm further south than Rome.'

Beniccio petted her hair and hummed softly. 'Maybe I can travel with you someday?'

'Maybe.' She smiled.

Sleep came soon after. It was full of warm woods that made her feet hurt, because she was barefoot. She didn't think she'd ever been in a wild forest before, but at least the rain had stopped. She thought she saw a wolf somewhere, but it might've been a horse instead.

Beniccio was already getting dressed and combing his hair when she stretched and yawned herself awake, and he was wearing a bright yellow shirt that morning. If only she'd have had a fresh, bright-coloured blouse as well.

'Get up, _lule,_ let's go.'

'Where are we going?' She crawled out from under the blanket and looked for her skirt and cardigan.

'I'll take you home,' he said. Giulia looked up. He was smiling. Her eyes went hot and her mouth dry, and she froze on the spot with a ringing in her ears.

So, that was it.

'You said you weren't working. I thought you're not busy, I-' 

'What? Giulia, no, my dear girl. Hey!' He rushed to her side and laughed like anything. He held her cheeks and shook his head. 'You silly thing, I'll walk you there, yes, but I didn't mean it like that.'

'Like what?' she whined, and he wiped at her eyes when they got wet, and she didn't like it at all. 'Stop that! How am I supposed to know what you mean when you talk like that?' 

'You have to forgive me, but you're so full of questions! I don't have time to answer before the next one is out.' He hugged her tightly. She straightened her blouse when her arms were free again.

'So what did you mean?'

'I'm walking you home, darling. Or, we can ride the bus to town together,' he said. 'But before that, we will have breakfast, and we will sit down somewhere nice. The weather is good, it's warm and bright. Don't cry, please.'

She shook her head and tried not to.

'How does that sound?'

'It sounds nice.'

He laughed. 'Nice? Well, it should. Get dressed, so we can go.'

Her eyes were already dry by the time she had the skirt buttoned, and she was smiling by the time the poor shoes were back on and they stepped out into the bright streets. She didn't like that he called her silly, but she did like it when he called her with sweet names and held her close.

What she liked even more was when the greengrocer complimented her earrings, and told Beniccio that he’d better treat her right - it was a joke just to sell them a few extra blood oranges, but it was a good one, because Beniccio couldn’t say no to that. He got them fresh bread and soft cheese, too, and for a change she did feel a bit like a princess.

Beniccio held her foot and launched her halfway up a sun-warmed wall. While Giulia squirmed all way on top of it, she heard him chuckling to himself. 

The paper bag full of oranges followed her - then, with two fast steps, a thud, and a grumble, Beniccio sat up on top of the wall too. He steadied her by the arm while she found her balance beside him.

'When will you be at the hotel today?' Giulia asked, breaking off a piece of bread. He pulled out a pocket knife, which wasn't the loveliest piece of cheese cutlery by any measure, but did its work well enough. And the cheese was very good.

'After half past ten I will be late. They'll kill me. Or fire me, and that's worse.' He looked at his watch. 'Nearing eight, soon.'

'We've got some time until that,' she said.

'Yes, luckily.' He watched her with a hint of a smile in his eyes. 'Where will you be next?'

'Working, too, I suppose,' she admitted. 'First, though, I'll get told off for not following the curfew Signora Di Marzio tells us to respect.'

'But you do have a roof over your head?'

'Of course I do!' she sanpped. 'I'm not living _in the streets_ just because I… because I'm here and I haven't got two pairs of shoes or new skirts.'

'No, I was just...' He shook his head. 'Hm, well. Worried?'

'I worry you?'

He ducked his head and laughed. 'Yes, I suppose so.' He knocked their feet together. 'But I've only one pair of shoes as well.'

'They're not broken.'

'Not far from it, either.'

'You're not very good at boasting,' Giulia pointed out, letting her eyes wander the street. 'Most boys do that a lot.'

'Should I? With you?'

Giulia smiled and shrugged. 'Maybe I would like that.'

'Really? In that case, I'll be sure to do it more,' he said firmly. It was as if they were talking of something very serious, but she saw the smile he tried to hide. 'I will make sure that when you see me next, I'll have lots to boast about. I will be ridiculously proud, and you will be exhausted by the time I'm done. I'll have a bicycle again - or maybe I will drive a car. You know what, I'll get you a car as well. Do you like horses?'

She laughed through her mouthful of bread, hoping to God that she didn't choke on it and sound like a turkey hen. She nodded anyway.

'Right, I shall have a bike, two cars, and a stable full of race horses for you.' He counted with his fingers. 'Is your birthday coming soon? Or _onomastico?'_

'No, it's in February. And _Saint Giuliana_ too,' she managed to reply after swallowing, valiantly without choking on her breakfast.

'Well, let's say my name was Benedetto, that was a month or so ago, right?' She nodded. She wasn't sure. 'We'll celebrate that, next week, and I will get you whatever you want.'

She smiled. 

He looked at her expectantly. 

She blinked. 'Wait, really?'

'Yes, really. What do you want?' He grinned. 'It isn't really my name, anyway, so I don't mind we're celebrating it late.'

'Would you do that for me?'

'Sure.' He shrugged. 'What else should I do? Tell me what you wish for, darling.'

A strange bright, bubbling something filled her chest, and the breakfast was forgotten. She twisted her hands together. 

It had been long since anyone had asked her what she wanted. 

Not that she could really afford the thought, anyway, she _needed_ so many things she didn't want to need at all. She needed socks and new shoes, and just spare change for breakfasts like these. Beyond that, there was so much she felt silly for wanting. Blue wasn't even her colour, but she was _so_ jealous for the dress that Maria from the night before had worn that it made her ache like anything, it was disgusting! 

New earrings she had now, the pair he'd already given her were lovely, but if only she'd had nail polish and a cardigan that fit her well. Just so she didn't look so poor that working boys worried for the way she lived.

But those weren't name day presents on your own saint's day, nevermind someone else's. 

She was beginning to only feel bad about it all, eyes stinging from embarrassment. She thumbed the outline of the cross through her blouse, but it never helped her nerves like it should have.

She could've just asked for a box of chocolates, that would've been very nice too. Or a book. Or tickets to a show…

'No rush,' Beniccio said.

'Um.' 

'Like you said, we've still got time left.' He had peeled an orange with his knife and offered a bright red slice of it to her. She took it and thanked him.

'You could just take me to cinema, some time,' she said. He didn't seem like a boy who watched ballet.

'Sure,' he said. 'But that isn't a present, that's just… more of this. Anything else?' The orange was sweet, but he was making a mess rather than managing to eat any of it. By the time Giulia took herself another piece of bread, the last of the cheese spread on it, he was so focused on the sticky red on his fingers that her flustered face went unnoticed. It was a good thing, too.

'I don't know. Chocolate?'

'Of course. And?'

'That's it.'

'You're being rather modest yourself, now,' Beniccio said.

'Well, I thought-' That he didn't _really_ have money for horses and cars, but he rubbed her nose and cheek with a clean corner of his handkerchief; the thought got lost. She looked up at him.

'You had cheese on there.' He smiled. 

'Thank you.'

'You shouldn't worry so much, you're too pretty for that.' He petted her cheek with his thumb. 'And I know a shoemaker who will fix those straps and heels of yours in a day.'

She took his hand in both of hers and kissed his knuckles. 'That would be the best present,' she said, and he smiled.

'Good. You can't go barefoot in the meantime, though, right? Not a good look in the cinema. So, Giulia my little darling, I suppose you'll just have to come with me and let me buy you new shoes before that.'

She returned his blinding, wide smile with a careful one of her own. 'I think I can allow it.' It turned into a laugh when he kissed her nose. 'But I don't want to be in debt, that's unfair.'

'Well, what do you want to get for me?'

'I can teach you English,' she said. 'It will help you keep the job even if I make you go there a bit late.'

'Oh, will you?' He laughed. 'That sounds like dangerous gamble.'

Luckily they still had a bit of time left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tirana is the capital of Albania, a former Ottoman territory quickly turned from a brief kingdom into a Fascist Italian protectorate. It stayed that way until the end of the War when it was made a Soviet state instead (via some German and Greek occupation in the middle, too). Fun.
> 
> I hope you understand that my intention here is not to say that all Sicilians or Albanians or all girls who get jealous of dresses are future murderers. I just love history and languages and exploring the possibilities with both. Thx.
> 
> Onomastico is the Italian name for a tradition in many Catholic and Orthodox Christian countries (and, for some reason, Finland even though we're protestants): a personal name day according to names in the saints' calendar. It's not a hugely big thing anywhere, unless you want it to be, but traditionally in many countries it would (and does) include hosting guests, exchanging gifts, eating well and whatnot.
> 
> If you've got a name that doesn't have a saint, like Besnik, you could have your party on all saints' day, but we're not about that here. Whatever is the best excuse for enjoyment right now is always the right answer for these two. From now on until the end at least. And the names are bound to change soon, anyway, so it's better to practice spontaneous partying.

**Author's Note:**

> La Gatta Cennerentola (Cinderella the Cat) is the traditional old Neapolitan/Italian version of Cinderella. She murders the stepmother in that one afaik, and there might be a gold shoe instead of a glass one, which would honestly be more on brand for Violetta.
> 
> All the chapter titles are fairytale motifs as well because I thought it was fun. Classic Cinderella, Hansel & Gretel, Tinderbox, Ivan Tsarevich and for example the Grey Wolf and the Firebird. You can decide if they're thematic or not!
> 
> In case the age differences were confusing, I've given Ludo the birth year 1937 and Violetta 1940 - he's a year older than Morse and she's two younger.  
> Obviously the difference is gross if she's fifteen, but you can take that up to Russ Lewis and my dead gran who married my grandad when she was sixteen and he was idek whatever.
> 
> I've never been to Naples, much less in the 50s, so excuse me for historical inaccuracies. I've done my best.


End file.
